Laundry Day
by Luna-Kitsune-Blu
Summary: Contest Entry:. Jak and Daxter have it pretty tough. The last thing they need to see is Torn in nothing but his boxers...Jak II based


A/n: This is one of my entries for a Jak contest being held currently on DA. It goes hand and hand with a picture which is my other entry that I finished last night. The basis of the contest is to write fic or draw a picture to go with an image the artist holding the contest made showing Daxter with his eyes all wide and mouth all hanging open. This happens to be my take on it. I own nada except mah idea. Oh, and Torn's Easter boxers.

.-.-.-.-.-.

The sun was shining, the birds were singing and every Civvie for seven blocks knew to keep a good ten foot distance between themselves and Jak.

Seems like any ol' day in the life of Haven's two least respected (and only) heroes, right? Well, actually, the people of the Haven had a fairly good reason to shun the blonde and his Ottsel this morning.

The pair had just gotten back from a mission in the sewers.

Needless to say, they were smelling…a little ripe at the moment.

"I need a _bath_," Daxter announced loudly in his usual whine from the appointed pouting spot atop Jak's shoulder guard. "I smell like…dear 'cursor's I don't wanna know what I smell like."

"We could head over to the Baron's fountains," Jak suggested absently as he scouted the skies for a zoomer he preferred.

Daxter opened his furry trap to answer but his reply was cut short as Jak's comm. burst from the confines of the hero's clothing and began to hover around in the air. "**Jak**," came Torn's smoking-damaged voice. "**We need you back at the hideout ASAP**."

"Hey!" the Ottsel cried, annoyed at being interrupted. "Can'tcha give us some time tah breathe? We just finished a gig for Krew, yah know! In the _sewers_. Yah know how _bad_ those smell?"

"**I can only imagine**," was the Underground's second in command's indifferent response. With that the transmission ended and the comm. refolded itself back to its normal pocket-size and replaced itself wherever it used to be on Dark elf's person.

"Can you believe that guy?" Orange Lightening asked as he leaned against Jak's cranium. "Treatin' us like we're his lap-dogs. Like we'll come at his beck," Daxter made a face and waved his paw one way. "And call," he made another face and waved his paw the other way.

"Daxter," Jak said in a bored tone as he went back to watching vehicles as they flew overhead. "We pretty much _are_ his lap-dogs." With that, the blonde dove into the air and grabbed a hold of the metal siding of a sporty little blue zoomer as it passed by. After punching out the driver and taking his spot behind the wheel, Jak dropped down to the civilian level and sped off for the Slums.

"Seriously," the Ottsel planted on the blonde's shoulder continued as his friend drove. "That had to be the most _disgusting_ mission we've _ever_ had to go on. _Including _the time I got chased by that huge-ass spider. _And_ the time I was sucked into that rusty, crap-filled pipe. _And _the time I--" Daxter paused mid-rant to sniff at a mysterious stain he had just spotted amongst the fur of his fore-arm. Judging by the smell alone, he could tell he had acquired it while roaming the cesspits. He scrunched up his face. "Oh, that is never gonna come out," he decided aloud as he began to pick at it.

"We'll head for the fountains right after Torn gives us our next assignment," Jak insured the furry creature as it continued to work restlessly at getting the clump of goo out of his currently stinky coat. "In and out."

"Yeah, well, we better." The Ottsel continued to pick as he spoke. "Smelleh the women no like."

The remainder of the ride was fairly quiet between Daxter and his picking and Jak and his policy against breaking rare silence. Finally they made it to the Underground's HQ and Jak, who had never heard of the word 'break' before in his misfortunate little life, rounded the corner to the dead end and hopped off just before the zoomer crashed into the far wall and exploded. Now with a small smirk on his face and a grinning Ottsel on his shoulder, the blonde waited for the other wall to slide aside so he could go down and find out what the almighty Torn wanted to send them to their deaths with next.

What they saw once inside however nearly made Daxter drop from his partner's shoulder in surprise.

Torn, the second in command of the Underground resistance against Baron Praxis, was leaning against one of the many bunk beds littering the floor of his hide-out, in nothing but a pair of very festive green boxers.

Both Jak and his furry companion's jaws fell open and unhinged.

"Jak," the tattooed leader greeted as he approached the frightened and confused pair. "Good timing. Take off your clothes."

"_W-WHAT_!" Jak stammered, jumping backwards away from the half-nekkid commander. "Take off my _WHAT_!"

"I knew it!" Daxter cried. "I knew it! I knew it! I _knew_ it!" He pointed a stubby finger accusingly at Torn, who now wore a confused expression across his pale face. "My Gay-dar's been goin' off _ever _since we first met you! _I. Knew. It._"

"What are you talking about?" Torn asked as he crossed his arms over his currently very bare chest.

"What are you boys going on about?"

Everyone, excluding Jak who had gone into a panic attack in which he was probably reliving a few rather disturbing memories from his prison days and was currently hyperventilating, redirected their attention to where a female voice had sounded behind Torn's map-covered desk. Standing behind said desk, adjusting the strap of her very pink and very frilly push-up bra, was Daxter's latest (and only ever) squeeze, Tess.

Again, Daxter's jaw went slack.

"Really, you men always make such a racket," the blonde giggled as she stepped around from the other side of the table. Now in plain view, the Ottsel could see that she also was only clad in her undergarments.

Very pretty, lacy, frilly, _revealing_ undergarments.

Daxter's furry arm fell back down to his side as his now very wide eyes darted between Torn and Tess. Inside his head, his brain was strangling itself with his spinal cord, refusing to take anymore abuse in this world. None of this was making any sense whatsoever!

"What the hell's wrong with you two?" Torn demanded, taking in the heroes' wide-eyed expressions. "It's just Laundry Day."

"L-Laundry Day?" Jak repeated blankly, apparently out of his homophobia induced coma. The other man nodded.

"Didn't you notice?" he asked, motioning to the rest of the room. The two teen's wide eyes drifted upwards.

Indeed there were a few things they missed when coming in, for instance the wires running from bunk to bunk and wall to wall all around the room. Hanging from the wires were various items of clothing, ranging from shirts to skirts and pants to coats. Upon further inspection, the duo found the ground also littered with laundry baskets filled to the brim with dirty outfits and various attire. And, spread across Torn's ever messy war-table, were around twenty pairs of socks, piles of unsorted stockings spread around the sides.

"Once every month the Underground has a laundry day for all its agents," Torn explained. "Most of our men live in the Slums and could use money wasted on laundry bills for something more…practical, such as food for their family. It's our way of saying 'thank-you' for all their hard work."

"And I get to sort socks!" Tess added happily.

"And…she gets to sort socks," the tattooed man agreed. He then returned his attention to the other, slightly greener blonde. "See why you need to take of your clothes now, Jak?" The hero nodded mutely, still taking it all in.

Jak was then lead by Tess over to the now appointed 'sock-sorting table' and instructed to undress and put his very messy, stinky, stained garments in a pastel purple laundry basket the waitress was currently holding out for him. "Looks like we lucked out after all, aye Dax?" Jak commented as he unbuttoning his jacket and pulled the shirt he wore underneath over his head. Daxter nodded absently, but his large blue eyes had yet to leave Tess's figure. C'mon, he just couldn't _help_ but stare at his golden goddess in all her lacy pink glory.

_Especially_ when she was _right in front of him_.

He's not made of stone here.

Laundry Day, besides being a little weird at first, was now officially his favorite time of the month. Now if only Keira and Ashelin joined the resistance…

Daxter was convinced there was no way any of this could have gotten any better.

"Oh, and Jak," Torn called just as the blonde was pulling the first leg out of his pants. "Tomorrow we're washing underwear."


End file.
